


Misery Loves Company

by digitalsoop



Category: Free!
Genre: F/M, au where they never met in school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalsoop/pseuds/digitalsoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gou didn't realize an actual western wedding could take so long. Makoto didn't realize only four people at the wedding would be fluent in Japanese.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery Loves Company

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "two miserable people meet at a wedding" that I got on Tumblr. Italicized text is English. I like the idea that Gou excels at English, but she never had the advantage of being dropped in an English speaking country so she's not quite as fluent as Rin.

Gou sniffed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She desperately needed to sneeze, and to find a bottle of eye drops to douse her burning eyes with. Just how much cologne could one man wear? And why hadn’t it been mentioned that she would be stuck next to him for the duration of a painfully long wedding ceremony? Were all westerners’ weddings so long?

The man leaned closer, whispering something she couldn’t understand. She leaned back slightly, hunching her shoulders and smiling. He smiled and held out a pack of tissues.  _"Do you need these_?”

"Oh.  _Thank_   _you_.” She gingerly took the pack and opened it, but as soon as she lifted the tissue towards her face she was overwhelmed with cologne. She flinched and crumpled it into a ball.

“ _You must really like weddings. They haven’t even exchanged vows yet._ " 

He settled back into the pew, oblivious to the fact that Gou was desperately trying to find a subtle way to get rid of the tissues. She glanced up and down the pew; to her right was an entire row of foreigners that weren’t paying her any mind. To her left, the end of the pew but no place to hide the cologne soaked tissues.

She could sit on them, but then the smell would follow her around for the rest of the night, if it hadn’t already clung onto her. Everyone in the church suddenly rose to their feet, and she jumped up with them, looking up the pew for some sign of what to do. They were just watching the priest, so she turned back to the left; statue, candles, candles, flowers. Flowers? No, not big enough. Candles, a man watching her. Well, that definitely wasn’t right. 

He was tall, so tall that he had to look down his nose at her so no one else would notice he wasn’t paying attention to the ceremony; despite his height he was definitely Japanese. His eyes widened and his shoulders tensed when he realized she was staring back at him. He bowed his head slightly and held out a hand. 

What did he expect her to do? Shake hands and exchange proper introductions in the middle of the wedding? He bit his lip for a moment and bent slightly at the waist. “The tissues.” 

"Ah," she glanced at the man that had given them to her. He had apparently been satisfied that he wouldn’t have to look her way again for the rest of the ceremony, because he didn’t even glance her way. The tissues were gingerly handed over, from small, narrow hands to wide, strong ones. He smiled, nodded, then promptly turned and tossed them away. 

Gou was rooted in place. She barely noticed the loud scuffling and thuds of people sitting back down in the pews, and didn’t realize she was still standing until she was looking down at him. He cleared his throat, his smile hesitant and his gaze darting between her and the people looking at her. She dropped into her seat with a loud clatter and stared at her shoes for the rest of the ceremony, refusing to stand up again. 

Just how long had that guy been staring at her? Just how long was he going to keep staring at her? Because even though she didn’t dare to turn around check she was sure that he was still staring. If he had stared long enough to know she desperately wanted to dump that entire pack of tissues—and besides that, he had been perfectly happy to help her accomplish something that was completely rude! Had there even been a garbage can back there? 

The cologne soaked man started cheering and clapping, and Gou jumped so high she figured it was better to just stand up and clap. She sighed when others proceeded to do the same, the bride and groom waving to everyone as they hurried down the aisle to leave the church.

She smiled and gave the groom a lack luster wave; he was Anthony, a coworker; a foreigner that was enthusiastic and a bit overly friendly considering he had invited everyone in the therapists’ office to his wedding. She had been the only one to accept the invitation, mostly out of curiosity. She had known his fiance was also a foreigner, and she had wanted the chance to see a real Western style wedding put together by real Westerners. So far it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. 

Her pew-mates were muttering and talking, scooting their way down the pew and into the aisle to follow the bride. A very covert glance revealed that the tall man wasn’t looking her way at all, but rather was focused on how the others were leaving, and whether it would be considered rude to step out of line and simply walk around the back of the pew. Gou had already made a fool of herself, so it was a risk she was willing to take; at least in this case it would likely go unnoticed. 

She took a step backwards out of her row, and then walked past her pew and the tall man’s pew. She paused to look into a garbage can with only a pack of tissues inside, then strode her way towards the crowd gathered near the doors. There were slow, heavy steps behind her. The tall man had followed her lead, but he didn’t speak to her or even stand too close. Some of the guests were trying to speak to him, but he could only offer a baffled expression and a heavily accented: “ _Sorry, I can’t speak English._ " 

How did he manage to get invited to a foreigner’s wedding? Granted, Anthony could speak Japanese fluently, even if his accent was still a bit thick, so it wasn’t as if speaking or understanding English was required to get an invite. It also wasn’t as if her English was the best in the world either. Though no one else was around her, and there hadn’t been anything to overhear, she hunched her shoulders and blushed. 

Waiting outside of the church was fresh air, people chatting, and a parking lot full of cars. No one approached her, and now that they were out in the open no one approached the tall man either. Anthony and his wife were missing, and judging from what she could overhear everyone was getting ready to go to the reception. 

Most of them seemed to be confused, fretting over how to read the map and the chance of getting lost in an unfamiliar country. She knew how to get there, of course, but it wasn’t her responsibility to give them directions; the tall man, however, didn’t seem to have the same idea. He was trying his best to explain and pantomime the directions, his face red and his eyes wide. She took a deep breath, tugged at her purse, and clicked her way over. 

She smiled and bowed a few times, nodding at the tall man. The people he was trying to help all seemed to be Anthony’s family, a mix of couples and parents and grandparents that had gathered close. “ _Hello. My name is Kou. Do you need help?_ ”

“ _Koh_ _? Well, this young man was trying to tell us how to find this place_ …” an older lady smiled at both of them and held out the map that Anthony had attached to the invitation. 

“ _Okay. Will it make you sad if I write on your_   _map_?” She dug in her purse as the woman shook her head, stepping closer and helping Gou hold the map and the invitation. “ _The_ _way to take is this one. It’s the best. It is easy to see it from the_   _street, don’t worry._ " 

“ _Oh thank you very much! Er,_ thank you very much.” Her faltering Japanese made the tall man smile, and all three of them bowed, then Anthony’s family quickly dispersed. 

"Thank you very much for helping me." He sighed and tilted his head. "I didn’t realize what this wedding would be like. Ah, I mean, it was very interesting and nice, but Suzanne didn’t say—"

"Suzanne? Is that the bride?" 

"That’s right, she’s a teacher at my school. Um, that reminds me, I’m Makoto Tachibana." 

"Kou Matsuoka." She hesitated, and giggled. "Uh, well, actually it’s Gou."

"It is?" 

"Well, um, to be honest when I heard your name I felt like I should just tell you my name even though it’s boyish." 

He raised his eyebrows, then he laughed. It was more of a strong giggle, and his smile lit his face and his eyes, though she could barely see them because he squinted his eyes so much when he smiled. “Thank you. I feel at ease somehow.” 

She rocked on her feet, clicked her heels on the cement and turned her head. “If you’re taking the train it’s going to be coming soon.”

"Ah, that’s right. So we’re going the same way?" 

"I think so. I didn’t drive." 

"Neither did I." Makoto smiled and patted the pockets of his suit. "You don’t mind, do you?" 

Even though his question was only half finished, she shook her head. “I don’t mind. We may as well stick together, right? You wouldn’t really be able to talk to anyone otherwise.”

"That’s true. Thank you for looking out for me. I really wasn’t expecting to have so much trouble communicating. Suzanne’s Japanese is so good," he paused and gestured for her to start walking, and he took care to keep in step with her. "But a lot of them were wearing kimono, huh?"

"It was mentioned on the invitation that it would be a good choice. They really looked nice."

"Ah, but yours looks really nice, too. I was going to wear something more traditional but—well, I knew it would mostly be foreigners, so I wanted to blend in, but I think I blended in too well."

He talked quickly and smiled often, looking down as they walked. His entire face had a faint tint of pink. She smiled, covering her mouth when she started giggling. He glanced her way and she was quick to give an explanation. “You’re right. You’re tall, so you could pass for a foreigner from behind.” 

Half truths were alright. He stood a little straighter and rolled his shoulders back, revealing just how tall and broad he actually was. Of course, her trained eye also noticed how his nice button-down shirt pulled across his chest. The conversation turned to work, an easy topic to bring up since he had already mentioned being a teacher; his eyes brightened when he talked about his students; his voice became softer, his pace of speaking slower. He explained, with a small amount of pride, that his students were far ahead the curriculum that had been set, and he was enjoying the challenge of keeping up his pace for them.

He paused when they approached the steps up to the train station, his cheeks coloring a faint pink. ”And you’re a physical therapist?”

"That’s right." Gou gripped the railing and took the first step, cringing at the loud clacking clank her shoes made. Sometimes going traditional was more of a hassle than anything. "Mostly I deal with athletes. My brother is an athlete, so—" she sighed at the slow, noisy pace she was heading up the stairs. Makoto cautiously raised his left arm, offering additional support that she was happy to take. Even with almost no effort being made on his part his muscles were tense, and she checked again for a blush. "So, I saw and learned about all kinds of injuries athletes can experience, and I decided I wanted to be able to help. I’m not athletic at all myself. Are you?"

It was blatantly obvious that he was. She could feel the evidence right underneath her palm. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Well, I was more of an athlete in high school and college. Now I just stay in shape.”

He was probably well beyond what the average person thought of when they heard Stay In Shape. He didn’t even realize he was practically lifting her up the stairs with the strength in one arm alone. “Ah, I can hear the train. We might miss it—Matsuoka-san?” 

She grunted and bent down, slipping off her sandals while Makoto babbled at her side. “Help me run.” 

His mouth snapped shut and he agreed with a wide eyed nod; he lifted his arm and practically swung her up the last steps, and she stumbled and scampered when her feet touched the platform. It was crowded, which wasn’t much of a surprise considering it was a weekend, and if Gou’s heart wasn’t pounding and her focus wasn’t completely on the ease Makoto continued to guide and pull and swing her towards the train, she would have been humiliated for causing such a scene in public. 

Her sandals clattered loudly to the floor as Makoto hoisted her into the train, stepping up behind her. The doors closed with a whisper, their follow passengers narrowed their eyes, and Gou realized that she had pressed one hand to her heart, and pressed the other to Makoto’s. They panted for a moment, and then he crouched down to straighten her shoes; her hand slid across his chest and without a second thought came to rest on his back.

His arms had seemed impressive, but compared to his back they were nothing; he was definitely beyond In Shape. He waited for her to step into her shoes before standing again; he looked down at her, smiled, then laughed and pushed his hair back from his forehead. By that time she had enough sense to keep her hands to herself, and to realize his eyes were green. 

"Um, so," she looked down at her purse, intensely focused on digging inside the small space for her phone. "The reception should be nice. More of their friends will be going to that, I think. More people to talk to, you know." He shifted behind her as the train started, and they both grabbed the pole next to them. Gou kept her head down and scrolled through her messages. Makoto made a small sound of acknowledgement, and the conversation remained stagnant for a good part of the train ride. 

Maybe it was embarrassment, or the rules of social interaction that demanded a certain emotional distance from people you barely knew that kept them from speaking. After all, talking would inevitably bring them closer. It would make them seem too eager to get personal with each other, ignoring the fact that they had crossed several boundaries already. 

And who knew what Makoto was really like. He was a strange man standing behind her on a train as far as Gou knew. She had put her trust in a stranger to respect her personal space, allowed him to touch her when she had been taught to politely avoid contact if at all possible; his smile had caught her off guard, tricked her. 

But then she remembered him outside the church; very small despite his height, his cheeks and ears bright pink, his eyes wide. Had that been what tricked her? 

"Hey, Tachibana-san." 

"Hm?" 

"Is my obi alright?" 

"Huh?" 

"Well, after all that running I want to make sure my kimono is still neat. I can’t see my obi." She glanced over her shoulder. His ears were bright red, and he was squeezed as far back from her as possible. He stammered and carefully reached out to her obi, taking care not to actually press his fingers against her. Then he suddenly stopped, and his blush spread to his cheeks. 

"Um, your kimono, it’s a little bunched up, but—"

"What’s wrong?" 

He ducked his head and muttered: “This is something couples would do, isn’t it, Matsuoka-san?”

Gou stared up at him and Makoto fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze, his hands trying to decide if they should stay at his sides or try to fix her kimono. She muffled her laugh behind her hand but it wasn’t enough to stop him from noticing. He blinked and hunched his shoulders. Gou smiled and carefully tugged at her kimono. She glanced at him for approval, which he quickly gave: “Yeah, you look great—it looks great! Your kimono.” 

"You’re a good person." 

"Huh? I mean, so are you, Matsuoka-san."

"Gou-chan is okay." 

"It is?"

"Is Makoto-kun okay?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. Makoto-kun is fine." 

There was a ninety-nine percent chance he was completely harmless. She gave him a break for the rest of the train ride, her attention on the map and invitation. The reception was at a hotel, one of many that rented out their halls for weddings. They could have gotten married there too, if they hadn’t been set on having a very Catholic wedding, which had been no small feat in Japan. 

If her prediction about the reception turned out to be wrong—if her friends from work weren’t there—she would feel very sorry for Anthony, but also for Makoto and herself. It would be a long awkward night, unless the alcohol was free. 

Then again, getting drunk with Makoto probably wouldn’t be that bad.


End file.
